


mystic wisdom

by fichuntie



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater, Spring awakening broadway, Spring awakening off broadway
Genre: 19th cent terms, Emotional Manipulation, First Kiss, First Time, Historical, Horny Teenagers, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Wet Dream, canon typical ages, melchior is a manipulative kid, not quite crossdressing, please enjoy the 19th century english slang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 06:15:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16131365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fichuntie/pseuds/fichuntie
Summary: Moritz seeks out Melchior for further instruction on his new dreams. Melchior takes the opportunity to lead Moritz a bit further along in their touching.





	mystic wisdom

**Author's Note:**

> see end notes for comments on dub con, i guess?

Moritz crawled into bed, familiar. He’d always been clingy, aching for contact but too nervous to ask for it from anyone but Melchior. There were bare inches between them, and that was familiar too. 

“It’s horrible,” Moritz whined. “I was in terror ever since --” 

He broke off, frightening himself.

“Since what, Moritz?” Melchior asked. He knew, but it was important that Moritz ask specifically on his own. Unbruised by shame, Moritz needed to lay out the dream between them. 

“Since you touched me. It- I — it went away hours later, that- the- this yearning,” Moritz pressed his face against Melchior’s chest. 

Melchior made a soothing noise, rumbling through his chest. Little Moritz was easy, pliable as he curled against him. Poor anxious pathic boy. They’d shared the bed so many afternoons. Sometimes Melchior could still smell the faint scent of Moritz’s sweat later in the night when he touched himself. 

Moritz peeked through his curls. 

“Do you remember the legs?” Moritz asked, voice quiet an anxious glance to the door. 

Melchior nodded. He remembered Mort’s legs spread on either side of the chair as his hand teased him under his uniform shorts. He remembered the jitter of legs as Moritz stumbled over the pronunciation of that hymn between them. He remembered the line of his dear friend’s body under the wool uniform, the weight of him between his legs. The kick of pigeon toed legs when Moritz gasped and came. 

“Well, the legs… that is…” Moritz hands fluttered. “The legs were different.”

“Different how?” Perhaps Melchior’s drawings had been instructional after all. This only proved that Melchior was right: better to instruct with pleasure, uninhibited. All the better to lead the reluctant molly colt. 

“Some of it was the same. They were in the blue stockings. And they were very shapely except-“ Moritz shoved a hand in his pocket. His leg jittered.

“Did you open the legs? See what lay between?” Melchior asked, keeping his eagerness back. He placed a hand on the shaking leg, drawing it over his thigh. Mortz twisted a little to get comfortable again, closer to him with his leg hitched higher to avoid the scratch of wool socks. Melchior petted him absently.

“At first it was the same terror. The same blue stockings with the silk tie. Only a strip of ribbon to hold back a great void that would devour me. Horrible, Melchi. Like a deep darkness. But then it was different.”

Their knees knocked together. 

“Yes, I opened them. They were… it was a man’s legs.” Moritz whispered.

Men’s leg in blue stockings. This was better than Melchior could’ve hoped for. More filthy than Wendla begging to be beat or Hansch’s covetous eyes in the shower. Better than turning pamphlet pages and coping a feel in his mother’s tea parlor. Moritz curled around him to whisper about a man’s legs in soft stockings with silk around his thighs. The fucking tease of him.

“Ah.” 

Moritz pushed his face against the pillow they shared as if he could smother himself. His tangled curls tickled Melchior’s nose. So filthy-sweet and he didn’t even realize. 

“There’s something wrong with me!”

“No, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

Moritz’s wide gray eyes were filled with tears. Melchior brushed against them, licked them away. Moritz long lashes closed, his fingers closed on the other boy’s shirt. He accepted the kisses and licks on his check like a kitten, like all their chaste kisses over years. 

“Hanschen’s the same, you know?” Melchior reassured. 

“Really?”

It was easy, so simple to press his lips against Moritz’s. His mouth was open, shocked, and warm and Moritz let him inside. Moritz mewled softly. Melchior pulled back to look at the bruised lips: he did that. Moritz kissed him, awkward, not yet practiced to tilt his head. Their noses bumped. Melchior laughed and instructed, cupping the other boy’s soft cheek. Melchior would instruct him on how to please. 

“Yes. I wouldn’t lie to you. You could look in books: Patroclus, paedica, penis.” With each word, Melchior pressed a kiss lower down Moritz neck. 

“Y-you know I’m no good at that,” Moritz sighed. “Latin and studying.”

“I’ll show you how. Drink of my chalice.”

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr is fichuntie](https://fichuntie.tumblr.com/)  
>  look the point is, melchior is not a nice person in the off broadway. he likes getting the other kids overwhelmed w forbidden knowledge and pleasure without much regard for if they're happy or safe. he also seems to like the power that gives him over the other kids. yes, moritz comes to him and yes moritz is consenting, but he doesn't have the awareness/knowledge that melchior does. so the dynamic here is just that side of wrong.
> 
> also, i went with period english/london slang rather than german because... i wanted to? /hand wave
> 
> depending on reaction and my obsession w 'touch me' i may write more.


End file.
